


Fear Of Growing Old

by DevinCarnes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Or not, domestic life, supermarket, your choice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 11:11:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1264213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevinCarnes/pseuds/DevinCarnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Castiel doesn't understand what hair dyier is for and Dean explains what's like to be human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fear Of Growing Old

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fanfiction translated from Italian. Please, if you find something wrong tell me in a comment!  
> Also, this is not a Destiel, but it could be. Your choice ;)

Dean realizes he lost the shopping list, or worse, he forgot it at home. He looks around with the basket of the supermarket in hand, hoping he'll remember what he wrote on it, hoping Cas could help him.

  
He turns around to call him but he doesn't find him nearby. Going shopping with this human Castiel was being more and more difficult. Sometimes he acts like a disobedient kid.

  
"Cas?" Calls Dean, but he sees him a few feets away, in the parallel department where Dean is, concentrated in looking at something on a shelf like a curious child. Dean reaches him with big steps and before he could tell him about his problem with the list, he sees what Cas' looking at and stays quiet, confused.

  
"Dean," begins Cas, without taking off his gaze from the object which caught his attention. "What's this?"

  
"Erm," Dean rubs his neck. "It's hair dye, Cas. Why?" _Do you need it_? He'd like to ask, but Castiel doesn't have white hair. Apart from the fact that he is looking at hair dye for _women_.

  
Maybe he just wants to change the color of his hair, since he has stopped to look at a box with fire red dye in it.

  
"And what's this for?"

  
Dean holds the basket with the other hand. "For... dyeing your hair. _Why?_ "

  
"Dyeing your hair?"

  
"Yes, Cas. To change color." He gets brave. "I lost the shopping list."

  
Castiel looks at him for the first time. "Why do humans would change the color of their hair?"

  
Dean's eyes gets wide open. Are they really having this conversation? He was worse then a child. Can't he ask normal questions?

  
"Cas," begins Dean, he looks around desperate. He cleares his throat. "Well, to cover white hair." Castiel looks at him confused. "You know, when we grow old, our hair turns white with age."

  
"So?"

  
Dean takes a deep breath. "So people cover it."

"But why?"

  
Dean palces the basket on the floor. He scratches his nose, concentrated, thinking. Now he knows where this is going. "Because nobody likes to grow old."

  
"But it's the natural process of the mortal life, Dean."

  
"Yes, but people don't like it. No one likes to grow old, Cas. Just like no one likes to get fat." Castiel tightens his eyes in the characteristic way he is used to, the one that makes him look like a curious cat or a mistreated owl. It is a specific sign that he still doesn't understand.  
Dean fills himself with patience and tries to be as clear and sincere as possible. "We're humans. We don't like to grow old. We don't like to know we're not attractive anymore, or strong, or in good health. Even if this is the natural cycle of every living being. Actually, we don't even like ourselves when we're young, we don't like how we look in the mirror, how our clothes fit, even if we chose them, or how other people see us. Our nature, our weeknesses, sometimes even our qualities. We watch the people around us and we keep asking ourselves what they're thinking while their looking at us with interest, if they have positive or negative opinions, if they're staying there listening because they're interested or because they're too polite to send us to fuck off. There's no human being who likes himself just the way he is Cas, people always wanna change, some dye their hair because they feel old and some do it because they don't like how they look, and want to look different." Dean pauses, hoping Castiel is following his thoughts. He continues: "People spend a lot of money on themselves: women who go to the hairdresser, people who get a nosejob, children with braces on their teeth. Diets. I'm even talking about all those people who go to those fucking psycotherapists who should help them find what's wrong in you." They stay quiet for a moment. "There are mornings where you don't want to get up from your bed because you start thinking about all those people who are going to judge you. Sometimes you let stupid things go out from your mouth, and you regret it that exact moment you say them, but you're too cocky or hurt to want to apologize. And sometimes, when you do, it's never _enough_.

  
"Some days you hurt people without even realizing. And they run away from you, without an apparent explanation, and you're so in pain that you can't even run towards them. Because in deep, inside of you, you know how fucking wrong you are, so you can't even blame them. Then there are those people you know since you were born, family, friends, that suddenly remember you how much you suck. And you can't do anything to become a better person because you don't even know where to start. And it's like you're drowning. You look at yourself in the mirror and you find nothing good." Dean chuckles. "And then you think that dyeing your hair could help a bit... but you actually know that it can't."

  
Dean grabs a toothbrush from the shelf, throwing it in the basket.

 

Castiel doesn't know if Dean is talking about people in general anymore. "It's so sad." He comments. "You feel like this too? Old and... awkward?"

  
Dean smiles to him. "Of course. I'm human too." _And hurt. And misunderstood. And misplaced._

  
They look at each other, in silence, observing.

  
"I don't know if this makes a difference," Castiel takes the shopping basket next to Dean's feet. "But I think you're beautiful. I wouldn't change a thing about you. Even when you'll be so old that you can't move." And then he goes straight towards the cash register, without picking anything else, without remembering that fucking lost shopping list.


End file.
